You Are The Reason
by RueEmerson
Summary: Daryl has a little friendly competition for Carol's affection. AU set in TWD:S4. I only own the non-canon characters involved.
1. Triple Threat

**_A/N: I'm trying something new with this latest Caryl story. I've been on hiatus, reading up on the nearly 800 Daryl-Carol M-rated stories on FanFiction and this idea came to me. Thanks for reading! Be sure to review.  
_**

Daryl wondered for the one-millionth time as he shrugged out of his shirt: How did this happen?

Remember to keep a cloth handy, he heard Carol's voice echo in his brain. He sighed and wiped his face before looking down at the blue eyes staring expectantly back at him.

"'K, little man, let's try this again," Daryl muttered, swiftly sealing the diaper before the boy could aim a second time. Jamison smiled at him and wiggled on the changing table.

Daryl snorted and shook his head before hoisting Jamison up, perching him on his bare chest. Two more identical pairs of blue eyes curiously stared up at him from the Pack'N'Play he'd snatched on a run more than a year ago.

How the hell did he become a father, and of nine-month-old triplets, no less?

Bowen and Greyson began jabbering with Jamison once Daryl lowered him into the playpen.

Daryl hooked his hands under his armpits and watched his sons. The three had a language of their own and it never ceased to amaze him how they seemed to be conspiring against him. They would huddle together and keep themselves occupied for long periods. Everything they did, they did in tandem. He knew he was in for it once they started walking.

Carol was able to tell them apart immediately. He supposed it was a mother's intuition. He, on the other hand, was tempted to brand them in some way, using a Sharpie or tying on a wristband, so he could identify them quicker.

His wife assured him Bowen, Jamison and Greyson would develop personality traits that were easily distinguishable.

He felt her presence more than heard her and looked up to see Carol leaning against the cell doorframe. Dressed in olive green cargos and a grey tank top, she was as sexy as ever. Who would ever guess she was a 45-year-old mother of three babies?

She smiled at him and he smirked.

"How are all my boys doing?" she asked. Hearing her voice, the triplets instantly snapped their attention to their mother and grabbed the sides of the playpen to pull themselves up to see her.

Daryl growled in appreciation and the boys mimicked their father's growl. Carol mockingly scolded Daryl with a narrowed look. Everyone in the prison compound knew without doubt whom the Dixon males were as they all growled and scowled in the same way.

Carol was positive her sons were born growling. She had delivered weeks earlier than expected but each one of them was as healthy as babies could be in this day and age.

Bowen had arrived first with Greyson on his heels. Rather than howling or crying as they were cleaned and handed over to their parents, they both seemed to be growling, Beth testified later.

Dr. S had assumed they were it until he spotted another shoulder crowning. Jamison had to be coaxed to join them and Maggie swore to her he growled at her upon being pulled out.

Carol eased her way into their cell and ran her hands across the triplets' heads, which were already sprouting dark curls, before turning to her husband with an unabashed grin as she appraised his bare chest.

"Who got you?" she teased, knowing he had trouble figuring out who was who.

"Jamison," he huffed, his eyes sparkling as he pulled her to him. "I know who my kids are, woman."

Carol laughed as she slid her arms around his neck. Daryl peered at her from under his long locks with a smirk, grateful he'd finally got over himself long enough to make her his.

* * *

_Two years before …_

Daryl scowled as he watched one of the men who arrived after the Woodbury group blatantly flirt with Carol in the kitchen.

"Looks like Mouse got herself an admirer," Merle scoffed as he plopped onto the bench next to Daryl.

Daryl snorted, looking down at his food, his appetite gone.

"Ya gonna let her get away, little brother?" Merle asked, digging with enthusiasm into his own meal. Out of all the cooks in their community, Carol was by far the best. If Daryl hadn't been sweet on her, he would have made a move on her by now. He loved her spunk.

"Shut up," Daryl muttered.

* * *

Carol was cleaning up dinner when she turned and collided with a solid wall of flannel.

"Whoa, I'm sorry there, ma'am," voiced a low southern drawl as callous rough hands connected to tanned arms covered by partially rolled up sleeves reached out to steady her.

Carol lifted her blue eyes to meet the grey ones of their newest member. His dirty beige cowboy hat was pulled low on his forehead not quite hiding the sandy brown hair that curled at his neck.

"I'm the one who should apologize for not paying attention," Carol said with a shaky laugh.

Why was she nervous? she chided herself, suddenly wishing for a breeze of cool air.

Boone Jackson had joined their group not long after the Woodbury crew. Glenn and Maggie had found him with his thumb stuck out along a country road with just his meager belongings: a battered cross-country backpack, down-filled bedroll and a half-loaded Glock on his hip.

He seemed to take everything in stride but spoke very little. He offered help where it was needed, whether it was hard labor in the field or corralling kids in the makeshift school. He had a tendency to stay to himself even though the group as a whole had taken a liking to him.

No one really knew his history, from where he came or whom he'd lost following the turn.

"Sorry I'm late. I was taking a nap before I had tower duty tonight," Boone said. "I don't mean to impose, seeing how dinner's over …"

Carol smiled and slightly shook her head.

"No problem at all," she said, slipping out of his grasp and reaching for a bowl to serve him.

Boone nodded, patiently waiting. Carol forced herself to take a deep breath before turning back to him.

What is wrong with me? she wondered.

"Thank you kindly," Boone replied when she handed him a bowl of stew and a spoon, their fingers briefly brushing.

"You're welcome," she said as he wandered over to a corner to eat.

Carol didn't have time to consider her reaction to the lanky cowboy as she finished up the kitchen area.


	2. Blocked by Boone

Boone stared out in the inky night from his perch in the sky and wondered what he was doing here, in prison no less.

When the Asian guy named Glenn and his woman Maggie had offered him a spot in their camp, he didn't realize he'd be behind barbed wire.

At the time it had seemed like a good idea. He was tired of being on the road alone, constantly looking over his shoulder and sleeping with one eye open. Nowhere seemed safe including the shack he'd holed up in for a short time. Bandits had taught him that.

Now he had a roof over his head, a bunk of his own (even if it was a cell), food to eat, and people who weren't out to steal from him, kill him or eat him.

It wasn't that he wasn't grateful, but he wondered if there wasn't more to this life.

He sighed as he glanced at the undead pressing at the fence in the distance.

Guess it beat being one of those things, Boone thought as he settled against the rail.

* * *

Carol found herself looking forward to seeing Boone the next morning when he came for breakfast after his night shift.

Get a grip, she told herself as she fiddled with dishes in between serving people. He had no reason to notice her.

She had flirted off and on with Daryl, but it had never gone any farther than the teasing as much as she wished it would.

Maggie sidled up alongside her and followed her gaze to where Boone sat on the stairs eating and observing the crowd.

"Boone's nice, isn't he?" Maggie commented. Carol gave her a side-glance with raised eyebrows. Maggie nudged her friend.

"Why don't you go over and sit with him? I'll wrap up here," Maggie said, tugging on the dishrag in Carol's hand.

Boone kept his eyes off Carol, even though he had felt something spark between them before.

She was Daryl's woman. He was sure of it, the way they bantered and touched. There was no way he was going to get in the middle.

Yet here she was headed his way with Maggie grinning from ear to ear.

He straightened and gave Carol an easy smile.

"Something I can do for you, Ms. Carol?" he asked.

She glanced over her shoulder at Maggie who was making subtle whisking motions with her hand.

"Well, I haven't had a chance to really visit with you since you arrived, so Maggie offered to do the dishes so I could," Carol lied.

Boone felt his heart swell and his breathing quicken. What the heck was wrong with him? It wasn't like he'd never talked to a woman before.

Carol was a lot like Lacey in her quiet strength and caring nature. But there was something about Carol he couldn't put his finger on.

"You mind if we go outside?" Boone asked, starting to stand. He needed some air.

Carol looked slightly flustered but nodded.

"Sure. I wouldn't mind soaking in some sun," she answered.

The two of them wandered out of the cellblock, unaware of Daryl's watchful stare.

* * *

"Darylina, ya've got yer head up yer ass," Merle commented as he watched Daryl watch Carol and Boone walk out.

"What the f*** ya talkin' 'bout?" Daryl snapped.

"Is she yers or not?" Merle retorted, standing next to his brother.

"Man, ya don't know nothin'," Daryl muttered, biting his thumb.

"Whatever," Merle said, thumping Daryl on the shoulder. "Betcha didn't know Mouse told me she'd kill me if I didn't straighten up and quit ruinin' yer life. She cares 'bout ya. Ya gonna just let some cowboy steal 'er away without a fight?"

Daryl glared at him but contemplated whether Merle was telling the truth. Was he letting Carol slip through his fingers?

* * *

Carol knew she must be out of her mind. Why did she let Maggie talk her into this?

Boone was attractive and kind. She couldn't remember the last time she had received such gentle attention from a man.

Boone was always willing to offer a hand and definitely wasn't hard on the eyes.

But he wasn't Daryl.

* * *

Boone wasn't some dumb hick. He knew he was treading dangerously by inviting Carol to spend time with him. The Dixon brothers, Daryl in particular, had been giving him dirty looks for the better part of a week.

However, he enjoyed her company and she for the most part seemed to enjoy his. That was until Merle or Daryl appeared in line of sight. Then the air would to thicken and she would beg off with an excuse of needing to accomplish some random task.

After two or three "dates," Boone knew something needed to give. He wasn't much for confrontation, but he unwittingly got his chance one afternoon in the garden.

When he returned from hunting, Merle had tipped Daryl off that Carol was in the garden with Beth and Carl, replanting seeds for the next crop of vegetables. He deliberately failed to mention Boone was there, too.

When Daryl strode outside he spotted Boone's telltale cowboy hat leaning precariously close to Carol. As he neared, he could see Beth and Carl were laughing and Carol was blushing.

Daryl caught bits and pieces of the animated story Boone was telling that involved horses, tomato juice and a skunk.

Boone caught Daryl's eye but pressed on with his tale that left Carl doubling over and Beth shaking her head. Carol was covering her mouth, her eyes shining. One of Boone's hands rested lightly on her shoulder.

Daryl hadn't seen Carol that happy in a long time. He hung back trying to decide if he should just go. Obviously Boone was the better man for her.

Why the hell would she want someone as scarred as him?

"Hey, Daryl!" Boone called out, waving him over.

Carol looked over her shoulder and visibly tensed up like a schoolgirl who'd been caught by her daddy for sneaking around. Daryl grit his jaw, fighting the instinct to flee and hide.

In the back of his brain he heard Merle telling him to quit being a pussy and claim his woman.

"Daryl! Boone was just telling us about how he had to take a bath in tomato juice after getting sprayed by a skunk," Carl excitedly explained, oblivious to the underlying tension swirling.

Daryl merely nodded, biting his bottom lip, as he stood at the edge of the garden.

"I'd better get these tomatoes to the kitchen," Carol said, gathering her tools and standing up with the basket clutched close.

Beth had noticed the tension and reached for the basket in Carol's grasp.

"I can get it for you," she said, turning to Carl. "Can you help me?" He shrugged and followed her.

Beth, like many from the farm, knew Daryl and Carol had a history and she didn't want witness the storm she could tell was brewing. She thought Maggie's plan to play devil's advocate by pushing Carol toward Boone to make Daryl jealous was a terrible idea.

Boone and Daryl silently sized each other up as Carol glanced between them.

This was going to end badly, Carol thought.


	3. Calm Before The Storm

The awkward silence was deafening. Boone and Daryl stood there, neither making a move. Carol felt like a deer in the headlights without a clue what she should do.

Merle chose that moment to appear, having been trailing Daryl from a distance to see how his brother would handle the situation.

He personally had no beef with Boone. The man probably would have been friends with Daryl before the turn, they were similar in character.

What concerned Merle was Daryl was slowly withdrawing, from him and from the group. He had been so insistent about the people in this prison, professing they were family and he needed them like they needed him.

But when Boone appeared on the scene and began staking a claim on Carol's attention, Daryl had started clamming up again like he did when they were kids.

Merle moseyed toward the threesome and slung an arm around Carol's shoulders as if he did it all the time. Carol had never been so relieved in her life to see Merle. The man generally infuriated her but she could have hugged him for interrupting.

"So what do we have goin' on here, Mouse?" Merle drawled, glancing at Boone and ignoring the scowl Daryl was giving him.

Boone was no fool. He knew Merle was trying to divert attention from Daryl. That's what brothers were for, right? If your brother didn't have your back, who would? He smiled at Carol.

"I was just telling Ms. Carol about the time I tangled with a skunk and we got sidetracked from the task at hand," Boone said.

He then tugged on the front of his cowboy hat in a farewell to Carol and gave the Dixon brothers a nod.

"I think I'm gonna go see if Tyreese needs any help on the fence. See you 'round," he said, ambling off as if he didn't have a care in the world.

Merle released his hold on Carol and grinned at Daryl who was now fidgeting with his crossbow strap.

"Maybe I oughta lend a hand, too," Merle said, flexing his lone human hand. He left Carol and Daryl facing each other alone for the first time in months.

Carol was unsure of what to say. Daryl stared at his boots. They used to be able to kid and joke around but something in their friendship had shifted when Daryl had left and then returned with Merle in tow.

Then Rick had opened the prison to the Woodbury families after the Governor was killed and they passed like ships in the night more often than not. There was always something to be done as the community grew and thrived.

Truthfully Carol missed the quiet solidarity the original group shared. Not that she minded all the new people; she had grown to care for them. Boone was a fun distraction, but she missed spending quality time with her best friend.

"I've missed you," she softly said, her hand shielding her eyes from the afternoon sun. Daryl lifted his eyes to meet hers, the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Missed ya, too," he admitted. If he were to be brutally honest with himself, he more than missed her. He ached for her, needed to be near her, wanted her all for himself. She was the real reason he had come back.

But before he could express any of that, Janet, one of the older ladies who had relocated with the Woodbury clan, called out to Carol from the inner yard.

"Carol! There you are," she said. "We need your help in the kitchen, dear."

Carol apologetically glanced at Daryl. Duty was always calling. He shrugged like it was no big deal but sorrowfully watched her go.

It was moments like this he wished they were back at the Greene's farm without the world pressing in.

* * *

Leaning against a bookcase next to Beth, Boone enjoyed listening to Carol as she read to the children during story time. He was impressed how enthralled the youngsters were with her as she described in detail the adventures of a boy and his dog.

Beth had told him Carol had lost a daughter before locating to the prison. He could see why all the kids, orphaned or not, saw her as a surrogate mother. Her heart was bigger than Texas, which was one of the reasons he was drawn to her.

"Okay, everyone. Time for recess!" Carol announced. "Go with Ms. Beth and Ms. Katy."

The kids erupted in cheers and a few hugged her before running out the library door behind Katy. Beth giggled as some herded around her, bombarding her with questions.

Anthony, a redheaded preschooler who lived with his aunt and uncle, tugged on Boone's pant leg.

"Mister Boone?" he asked.

Boone squatted down to Anthony's level.

"What can I do for ya, kiddo?" he asked.

"For my birthday, can I have a hat like yours?" Anthony questioned, touching Boone's hat brim.

Boone grinned and cocked his head.

"I'll see what I can do," he replied. Anthony's eyes lit up and he wrapped his little arms around Boone's neck and squeezed.

"You're the best, Mister Boone!" he exclaimed. Boone laughed and hugged the boy back before shooing him outside with the others.

Carol's heart swelled as she witnessed the exchange. There was something about Boone that continued to touch her. She wondered if he had children in his past life.

He caught her looking at him and winked as the last of the kids rushed out.

"You're a great storyteller," Boone commented as he helped gather up cushions and pillows from the floor. "You had me intrigued."

Carol flushed as she tossed the pillows on the overstuffed chair they had loaded up on a run.

"Not like you," she said. "You truly have a way with words. Not to mention you have a wonderful singing voice. All I'm doing is reading from a book. You're the one with talent."

Boone had surprised them all when he harmonized with Beth and Maggie during a sing-along one evening. Turned out he could play guitar, too, which Glenn gladly relinquished to him.

Beth had declared then and there that Boone would have to give a concert soon. She had yet to pin him down on a date.

Rubbing his neck, Boone shrugged off her compliments.

"You're the one who is making a difference," he said. "You bring sunshine where there is darkness."

Carol gave him a soft smile. Boone reached out and gently ran a thumb across her cheek.

"You give me reason to smile," he quietly said.


	4. The Pissing Contest

Carol's breath caught at Boone's statement. He was looking at her in a way she hadn't been looked at … in well, never.

Ed had said and did all the right things at first but once she'd agreed to marry him, he had been a selfish bastard focused on his own desires. He never made her feel special and he certainly never looked at her the way Boone was looking at her now.

Boone started to close the space in between them when a gravelly voice stopped him.

"Ya best step away from 'er or ya get an arrow in the ass," Daryl said, raising his crossbow up.

Carol whipped around to see Daryl leveling it with Boone in his crosshairs. Boone stayed put, his eyes locked with Daryl's.

"You can't be serious," Carol gasped, her hand at her throat. "What's gotten into you? Are you going to shoot someone for talking to me?"

"Looks to me more than talkin' goin' on," Daryl growled.

Boone stepped in front of Carol, blocking her from Daryl's view.

"You got something to say to me, say it," he said.

A muscle in Daryl's jaw twitched. Boone crossed his arms. Carol wanted to palm her forehead.

"This is ridiculous," Carol said, skirting Boone and standing halfway between the both of them.

"Now I don't know what you all think is going on here, but it's got to stop," she said, addressing them both. "I'm friends with you," as she pointed at Daryl, "and I'm friends with you," as she pointed at Boone. "You don't like it, then tough. Until you can play nice, both of you need to keep your distance."

And with that, Carol pushed past Daryl without another word.

Daryl watched her walk away, frustration boiling in his veins.

Boone chuckled.

"Whatcha laughin' at?" Daryl growled, lowering his bow and glaring at the prick.

"That is one of hell of a woman," Boone said. His admiration of Carol had just raised several notches.

Daryl huffed and stalked off.

* * *

Carol kept true to her declaration. She avoided both of them in the days to come, nonchalantly serving them and passing them in the cellblock without so much a glance.

Daryl was pleased she wasn't spending any one-on-one time with Boone, but it was killing him that she refused to speak to him either. She barely acknowledged him when he dropped off a doe for dinner one day.

Merle ribbed him, having overheard Carol voicing her irritation to Maggie about the guys' pissing contest.

When he couldn't take her being mad at him any longer, he cornered Boone in the tower. The cowboy eyed his approach before turning back to the rail. They stood there silently for a while before Daryl spoke.

"I love 'er," he quietly said. "This life don't mean nothin' to me without 'er."

Boone knew exactly how the archer felt. He'd felt that way about Lacey. His whole world had revolved that woman. He'd stumbled around for months in a daze after losing her.

"I had that once. It takes a special woman to put up with someone like me," Boone said, giving Daryl a sideways glance. He was quiet for moment before continuing.

"Look, I like Carol, but I'm not going to steal your woman. I know she's yours. But does she know that? I think you need to tell her how you feel," he said.

Daryl sighed.

"I'm not very good at that shit," he bemoaned.

"It don't matter," Boone replied. "A woman needs to know exactly where she stands with her man. She needs to know she's important, that she's all you want or need."

Daryl mulled over Boone's words. He'd always assumed Carol knew how he felt, but it was obvious she didn't.

"Sorry 'bout the arrow thing," he muttered.

Boone snorted.

"No problem, man. Remind me to never get on your bad side," he said.

Daryl ducked his head, hiding a smirk.

* * *

At breakfast the next morning, Boone sat down at the table where Daryl and Merle were. Daryl gave him a slight nod. Merle lifted an eyebrow but said nothing.

Maggie elbowed Carol and tipped her head toward the guys.

"Looks like they've made up," she whispered.

Carol looked over her shoulder in surprise.

She had stuck to her guns but it had been hard. She was gratified to learn Daryl did have a jealous bone in his body and she had almost given in the day he brought her the deer.

Beth wandered over to Boone, Judith on her hip. He looked up at them with a smile and tickled Judith's pudgy feet, making her giggle.

"What can I do for ya?" he asked.

"Agree to perform tonight," Beth sweetly said. "We can talk about a playlist after breakfast and I can practice with you if that helps."

Merle snickered, knowing the cowboy had been trying to get out of doing a concert. Boone realized he was never going to be let off the hook so he finally agreed.

* * *

Word spread quickly about the impromptu event.

Boone was a bit nervous as he surveyed the group that had gathered on the grass. Long before the turn he'd played in a handful of honky-tonks but that was always to a drunken crowd that hooted and hollered. Heck, he'd probably been drunk himself.

When him and Lacey had gotten together, he'd serenaded her sober on the front porch of their country home. She had tried to get him to perform at non-alcoholic venues or even get into a recording studio but he always put her off.

Beth handed him the guitar and gently pushed him toward the eager crowd. Everyone had spread out on blankets and they were talking among themselves.

"Thanks everybody for coming!" Beth announced, hushing the group. "Boone and I are gonna entertain you tonight. We hope you enjoy it."

Once the clapping ended, Boone began whistling the first few bars of Amos Lee's "Sweet Pea" while strumming the guitar.

_"Sweet pea, apple of my eye/Don't know when and I don't know why/You're the only reason I keep on coming home"_

Carol rocked back and forth to the music, her eyes on Boone, sitting on a blanket not too far from where he was.

Daryl was at the edge of the crowd, standing with his hands tucked under his arms, watching Carol sway. He wanted to sit next to her but he didn't know if he'd be welcome.

_"Unlike the Rock of Gibraltar/I always seem to falter/And the words always get in the way/Oh, I know I'm gonna crumble/I'm trying to stay humble/But I never think before I say"_

Carol turned her head and looked at Daryl. Her expression was forgiving and she motioned to him to join her. He took a deep breath and walked to her.

_"Sweet pea, keeper of my soul/I know, sometimes, I get out of control/You're the only reason I keep on coming/You're the only reason I keep on coming, yeah/You're the only reason I keep on coming home"_


	5. Dead Ringer

"Daryl! We've got to go!" Glenn yelled from the front of the store they were ransacking.

"Give me a sec!" Daryl yelled back, irritated as he tossed items aside in the glass case.

"What's the holdup? Those walkers are getting closer," Glenn said as he neared where Daryl was. The man had been insistent on entering the pawnshop even though they had already acquired everything on the list for this run.

Astonishment crossed Glenn's face when he saw what Daryl had in his hands.

"Are you planning on proposing to Carol?" he asked.

"So what if I am?" Daryl snapped.

"That's cool," Glenn said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "About time," he muttered under his breath as he returned to the front of the store to wait.

Daryl still hadn't talked to Carol per Boone's advice, but at least the tension wasn't there like before. They had resumed their friendly teasing and she'd started calling him Pookie.

For the life of him he couldn't figure out why the nickname, but he secretly liked it. However, he had punched Merle the last time he joshed him about it.

He rifled through the rings, hoping he correctly guessed her size, before striding past Glenn.

By the time they exited the shop, a herd of walkers had surrounded the car.

"Damn," Daryl cursed. They ran back inside and Glenn barricaded the door.

"I guess we'll just hafta wait it out," Daryl said, peeking out the barred window. Glenn shot him a dirty look.

"What?" Daryl groused. "Not my fault they're out there!"

Glenn rolled his eyes as he slumped onto the floor against the door.

* * *

Day faded into night and Carol and Maggie were getting worried. The men had not returned from what should have been a simple supply run.

They stood in the inner yard as the sun set, facing the gravel road into the prison. Rick and Boone, who was getting ready to replace Rick on tower duty, joined them.

"Why don't you ladies turn in for the night?" Boone suggested. "I'll come and get you the moment they get here."

"What if they don't …" Maggie whispered, tears in her eyes.

"We'll send out a search party first thing in the morning," Rick assured her, laying a hand on each of their shoulders. Carol bit her lip and nodded.

* * *

At dawn's early light, headlights appeared on the horizon just as Bob stepped into the tower to relieve Boone.

Boone sighed in relief. He and Daryl had hit it off after their talk and he genuinely liked the bowman.

Rick opened the gate to let the car in. When they pulled inside the inner yard, both men jumped out.

"What happened?" Rick asked.

"Delayed by a herd in town. Had to wait it out and then ran into another herd down the road," Daryl said, his eyes anxiously darting around.

"They're inside. We sent them to bed," Boone said. "Both are pretty upset."

Glenn and Daryl dashed inside leaving the others to unpack the car. Glenn found Maggie in their cell but Carol was not in her cell when Daryl pulled back the sheet.

He strode to the kitchen, figuring she was probably making breakfast. The Woodbury women were in there and none of them knew where Carol was. He wondered if she was taking care of Judith, so he started back into the cellblock only to be halted by his brother.

"She's been cryin' in yer cell," Merle woefully said. He hadn't ever seen Carol that distraught and it bothered him greatly. "Glad yer home, baby brotha."

Daryl sprinted to his cell to find Carol curled up in a ball on his bed, fitfully sleeping. He deposited his crossbow on the floor and then sat on the edge of the bunk.

"Hey," he said, gently shaking her shoulder. She rolled over and opened her bleary eyes. She gave him a watery smile.

"You're back," she murmured.

"I'll always come back for ya," he said. "Can't live without ya, woman."

Daryl helped her sit up before reaching into his pocket.

"Got somethin' for ya," he said, unfurling his fingers to reveal a modest gold band inset with diamonds.

Carol looked at him, covering her mouth as tears threatened to fall again.

"I wanna be yer man if ya have me," he beseechingly said gazing at her face. "I know it ain't much, but I'm all yers."

She nodded as he slipped the ring on her finger. In that moment, without any fanfare or fancy words, Carol Peletier became Carol Dixon.

**_A/N: I'm sappy and I know it. I was listening to Luciano Pavarotti's "Turandot: Nessun Dorma" as I finished this chapter. Thanks for all the marvelous feedback. Stay tuned … more to come!_**


	6. Coming Home

Daryl knew he should have known that secrets were impossible inside the prison walls. He had unobtrusively planned to move into Carol's cell and them carry on their lives like nothing had happened.

But the moment Maggie spotted the ring on Carol's hand all bets were off.

The entire group erupted with excitement at the news of the clandestine nuptials and everybody kept congratulating the newlyweds, much to Daryl's chagrin.

The girls wanted to know from Carol how he proposed and the guys merely slapped Daryl on the back.

Beth, ever the romantic, insisted that Carol not have any chores for the rest of the day and several of the women rallied to cook a special dinner to celebrate the occasion.

Maggie, Sasha and Karen ushered Carol into the shower area where they had set up a makeshift spa. They proceeded to pamper her despite her pleas that she didn't deserve it.

At Beth's urging, Rick took Daryl off fence and tower duty, too.

"What the hell am I supposed be doin' then?" an agitated Daryl asked when he was escorted away from the fence by Tyreese.

"All I know is I have orders to bring you inside," the burly man said.

They were met by Boone and Glenn, both of whom had been instructed by Rick to keep Daryl busy until dinner. They settled on target practice, complete with a private stash of beer and cigarettes.

Michonne and Merle cleaned and outfitted a cell in the empty cellblock A as a honeymoon suite.

By the time dinner rolled around, Carol and Daryl were feeling happy and relaxed. They were released into each other's company and set up at a specially decorated table.

Daryl was a mite embarrassed at all the attention but Carol consoled him by leaning into him and deflecting questions on his behalf.

After toasts were made and dinner was eaten, Daryl debated how to excuse himself. He appreciated the group's thoughtfulness but he was ready to get out of there.

Seeing his discomfort, Michonne came to his side and subtly handed him a hoop of keys. He peered up at her questionably.

"Cellblock A. It's all set up for you and Carol to have some alone time," she quietly said, a twinkle in her eyes.

Daryl's mouth twitched in what she perceived as a smile. He stood up, pulling Carol with him.

Maggie came over and hugged Carol, slipping a duffle bag in her hand.

"For tonight," she whispered. Carol blushed and thanked her.

* * *

Daryl led Carol into the abandoned cellblock. They made there way toward the center cell which had been transformed into what only Carol could have described as a luxury hotel room.

Bunks had been pushed together and padded with fresh sheets, lush comforters and soft pillows. There were candles ablaze atop a dresser, the sink and a small stand. A bouquet of wildflowers rested in a vase on the table.

"Oh my word," Carol breathed. She was amazed at how the group had pulled something so opulent together for them. Daryl was beyond thankful for their efforts to make Carol feel special.

* * *

Daryl was nervous.

He hadn't been with a woman in a long time; it had always been when he was soused and purely for instant gratification. He had no idea how to make love to a woman.

He and Carol hadn't even kissed yet. He wasn't sure he knew how.

Carol sensed his apprehension and soothingly touching his arm.

"We don't have to do anything we don't want to," she assured him. "Why don't we get ready for bed and go from there?"

Daryl bit his lip and nodded. Carol sat on the edge of the bed to yank off her boots. He sat next to her and did the same.

He eyed the duffle bag Maggie had handed her that was resting on the floor by the bed and gave her a side-glance.

"Do I even wanna know what's in there?" he asked.

Carol giggled.

"Let's find out, shall we?" she replied, grabbing it and opening it. The contents included personal items and a change of clothes, obviously swiped from her cell. Carol blushed when she pulled out a flimsy negligee.

"I think ya will look good in that," Daryl huskily said, causing Carol to blush harder.

* * *

Daryl stood in the cell doorway with his back to Carol to give her a private moment to change and to compose himself. He chewed on his thumb as he contemplated the past 12 hours.

He was a married man. The thought alone was overwhelming. Not that he wasn't happy about it, because he was. It was just odd to think of himself belonging to someone else. He was a husband.

He smiled to himself. Carol was his wife. She was his and his alone, his to protect and his to love. He would spend the rest of his life showing her what she meant to him.

"You can come back in," Carol called to him.

Daryl turned around and his mouth went dry. Carol stood there, her arms crossed over her chest, timidly looking at him.

All he could think was she was f***ing gorgeous in that satin red negligee that came to the middle of her thighs. It fit her in all the right places and he was getting hard just looking at her.

Carol never considered herself beautiful but the way Daryl was staring at her, the heat that flared in his eyes, sparked hope that he found her attractive.

Daryl forced his legs to move. He didn't trust himself to speak so he decided to show her instead. He cupped her face and pressed his lips to hers. Carol slid her arms around his neck and molded her body to his.

It didn't take Daryl long to figure out what made his woman tick and the two of them tumbled into bed. Clothes were quickly discarded as moans and sighs echoed throughout the cellblock.

* * *

Carol burrowed in closer to the warmth at her back. Daryl tightened his arm around her and nosed her neck.

She cracked one eye open and watched shadows flicker across the concrete wall. The candles were burning lower and the temperature was slowly dropping.

Carol couldn't remember the last time she was this content. Probably never, she thought. Ed had never seen to her pleasure and self-help certainly wasn't the same.

The man in her bed had proven that. She smiled to herself.

Daryl had been very attentive to every inch of her body. She suspected she would be feeling muscles she didn't know she had later on.

She closed her eyes and let herself drift back to sleep.


	7. Stick It

Carol stared Daryl, bracing herself for his reaction.

After being sick while cooking breakfast several mornings in the row, she instantly realized she was pregnant.

When Daryl had left to go out on a hunt with Merle, she had pulled Maggie aside and privately asked for a pregnancy test from Maggie's stash. Her and Glenn had been trying for a while and kept several on hand just in case.

Staring at the pink line on the stick teetering on the edge of the sink in their cell, Carol groaned.

It wasn't that she didn't want more kids, especially if they were anything like their father; the idea of little Dixons running around made her heart swell. It was Daryl's response that concerned her.

They hadn't really talked about the prospect of bringing a child into this world. Not to mention, she had grossly assumed that she couldn't get pregnant again due to all of Ed's abuse.

One of the beatings she had received prior to the turn had landed her in the hospital and the doctor had given her the distinct impression she couldn't ever conceive again. She hadn't bothered keeping up with birth control after Ed died.

"I'm gonna be a father?" Daryl incredulously asked. Stunned, he paced their cell.

Carol didn't know what else to say. Gauging by the fact he hadn't walked out nor had he yelled at her, she could tell he was trying to calmly process the news.

Daryl's brain was whirling. It wasn't that he didn't like kids; he did. He'd gotten used to all the rugrats running around the prison and he had a soft spot for Carl and Judith. He wasn't opposed to having kids of his own although he desperately hoped they turned out more like their mother than him.

"We're havin' a baby?" he asked, finally coming to a stop in front of her.

Carol nodded, seeking for approval in his face and trying to stifle the hormonal rush of anxiety.

Daryl touched her flat stomach and lifted his eyes to hers.

"When?" he asked.

"Seven months give or take," she answered.

He smirked at her. She smiled back at him.

* * *

As her belly grew, Carol began to question whether she was carrying more than one baby.

Dr. S had been monitoring her progress and surmised she was probably pregnant with twins but told her that without an ultrasound, he couldn't be for sure.

Daryl became irrational as she entered her third trimester. He didn't want her doing anything that required her being on her feet or bending over, which was almost every chore she had.

The Woodbury ladies had assumed her kitchen duties and she was already restricted from going on runs. She was still allowed to interact with the children and she continued to aid Beth with Judith.

Daryl even tried to convince Rick to force her into bed rest to which Rick adamantly refused, saying it wasn't his place to make medical decisions. Daryl didn't bother approaching Dr. S because he knew the doctor would side with Carol.

Carol was ready to kill her husband with her own knife.

"I don't want ya out there," Daryl argued with her as she headed to the garden, him trailing behind her.

"And you can't stop me," she coolly replied. "I'm not helpless, Daryl! The worst that could happen is I go into labor and deliver early, which is not unusual for multiples."

Carol eased herself to the ground.

"If you're so worried about me, you could always stay and help," she sweetly said, holding out a trowel.

* * *

Boone was leaning against the wall with Carol as they watched the kids play and chase after Katy and Carl. Judith was sitting on a blanket nearby with Beth who was humming to her as she stacked blocks.

Unbeknownst to Carol, Daryl had asked Boone to keep an eye on his wife during school hours and let him know if anything unusual happened.

Daryl knew Carol was holding back about certain things such as not feeling a hundred percent because she was stubborn. Ironically it was one of the things he admired most about her.

Amused by his friend's trepidation, Boone had agreed. However, in the three weeks he'd been on reconnaissance, Boone had nothing substantial to report to his friend.

Carol suddenly gasped and pressed a hand to her belly. Boone immediately straightened and came to her side.

"You okay, Ms. Carol?" he asked. She glanced at him and gritted her teeth as a contraction ripped through her body.

"I guess these boys are ready to go hunting," she kidded, trying not to wince.

"Boys, huh?" Boone replied as he slid an arm around her waist to steady her.

"I suppose I should go find Dr. S," Carol said, clutching her stomach. Boone nodded and swung her up into his arms bridal style.

"How about I get you to the infirmary and then fetch your husband?" he said, catching Beth's eye.

Beth hurriedly packed up Judith and called out to Katy they were going inside before rushing behind Boone and Carol.

Once he settled her on the clinic bed under Dr. S's supervision, Boone darted out into the yard, searching the compound for Daryl. Spotting him at the fence with Tyreese and Rick, he shouted for him as he ran toward him.

"Carol's in labor! Come on, man!" Boone yelled, waving his arm toward the prison.

Daryl shouldered his crossbow and ran faster than anyone thought the man could move.


	8. Horsing Around

_Present day_

"Greyson!" Beth yelped when Carol's middle son appeared at her side without warning.

"Sorry, Aunt Beth," he said, his voice sounding very much like his father's. His dark sandy blond hair hung over his flinty blue eyes.

His brothers were silently standing behind him. It was like having double vision as Bowen and Jamison were identical images of Greyson.

All three were wearing T-shirts with the sleeves torn off and holey pants pulled over scuffed tennis shoes. Carol had long ago stopped trying to keep her boys in clothes that weren't torn or ripped; they imitated Daryl in every since of the word.

The Dixon triplets were smarter than a whip and the prison community wasn't quite sure what to make of them. Even at 4 years old, they had a tendency to stealthily move from place to place and rarely were seen without the others in close proximity.

Carol had seen to it they knew how to defend themselves, outfitting them with their own knives once they could properly hold one with understanding how dangerous it was, and Daryl had already taught them how to track and hunt. They could be a deadly force unit when necessary despite their age and being less than 4 feet tall.

Bowen was a natural born leader as the firstborn and often followed his father's footsteps by rounding up and guiding the junior group.

Greyson was compassionate and more like his mother. The quietest of the three, he always offered to lend a hand and soothed others when they were in pain.

And as the youngest, Jamison had his father's dry sense of humor and was quick to get folks stirred up. He sometimes would team up with his Uncle Merle to get a rise out of people.

"Where is Uncle Boone?" Greyson asked Beth.

Beth glanced across the field, shielding her eyes from the sun, searching for her husband.

Not long after the triplets were born, Boone had tag-teamed with Beth in school responsibilities while Carol took a break. They had grown closer, and by the time Bowen, Greyson and Jamison were learning to walk, Boone had proposed to Beth by serenading her in front of everyone during dinner one night.

"I think he and Maddie are in the horse corral," she answered. Their daughter Madison had been born when the triplets were not quite 2.

The boys took off for the corral where they found Judith, who was 7, confidently sitting tall in the saddle and circling the fence under the watchful eye of Boone and Maddie, who was sitting on her father's shoulders.

Glenn and Maggie's 3-year-old son, Shaun, was leaning against the corral fence next to Boone, and one of the other group boys, Anthony, 8, was perched on the corral fence.

Judith and Anthony were sporting straw cowboy hats that Boone had found at general store during a run while Shaun had on a green ball cap with John Deere blazoned on it that matched his eyes.

Boone had been lucky to find a couple of quarter horses alive on a nearby farm along with a horse trailer. Coaxing the wild-eyed mares to let him catch them and halter them had been a challenge.

But once he got them back to the prison with Merle's help, he diligently worked with them to re-gentle them and re-train them to let riders on their backs. The blue roan named Stormy and the sorrel named Rose seemed to sense they were safe now so they were no longer flighty and didn't buck.

Judith, who looked a lot like Rick, had taken a real shine to Stormy and apparently had an affinity for horses. Everyone in the compound knew if they wanted to find Judith, they could always find her with Stormy.

Bowen, Greyson and Jamison climbed the corral fence and perched next to Anthony.

"Hi, boys," Boone said, looking their way with a grin.

Just as Daryl had a soft spot for Judith and Carl, he had a soft spot for the Dixon triplets. He treated them like they were his own sons.

They gave him the trademark Dixon half-smile as Rose moseyed toward them and nudged Greyson's leg. The two of them had bonded when Daryl rode her in the field for a perimeter check with Greyson in his lap. Greyson stroked her forehead as Bowen reached to rub her behind the ear.

"You ready to ride?" Boone asked Greyson. He bit his bottom lip and nodded.

Boone had been allowing all three boys to ride Rose with him leading her around the corral if they wanted.

But Greyson had recently asked to ride by himself without a lead rope like Judith. Carol had been hesitant to give permission but Daryl convinced her Boone wouldn't allow Greyson to go horseback if he thought the horse was antsy or skittish for any reason.

Boone lifted Maddie off his shoulders and set her down next to Shaun before helping Greyson onto Rose's back and handing him the reins.

"Nudge her with your heels and direct her where you want her to go by pulling the reins in that direction," Boone instructed before stepping back to the corral fence.

Daryl soundlessly appeared outside the corral, standing behind where Bowen and Jamison were perched, and saw Greyson walk and trot Rose around the corral behind Judith on Stormy.

When Greyson noticed his father, he gave him a slight nod to which Daryl responded in kind.

Boone then glanced back at his friend with a grin as if to say, "the boy is a natural." Daryl tried not to smirk as pride swelled within his chest.


	9. Hidden Tears

**_A/N: This brief smutty goodness is for Athlete Girl …_**

Daryl never imagined that he would like sleeping with another person in his bed, but he discovered that he immensely liked having Carol's soft body pressed against his. In fact, he felt empty when she wasn't.

After his first overnight hunt as a married man, he decided he wouldn't be doing that again, at least not without her by his side. He had grown accustomed to her heartbeat.

As the first rays of sunlight began to stream into their cell, Daryl pulled her back closer to his chest, his nose in her hair. She now sported shoulder-length naturally curly hair that framed her face.

He skimmed his free hand along her side, slipping it under her tank top across her full breasts and abdomen before running over the swell of her hips.

Carol slowly woke and scooted her backside tighter into him. Daryl growled in her ear as he pressed his erection against her and slid his hand inside her sleep pants between her thighs, finding her already wet for him.

Pushing down her sleep pants, she kicked them off as he pushed down his own. Lightly nipping the curve between her neck and shoulder, Daryl raised her leg up and back over his, entering her from behind.

Carol sleepily sighed and arched into him, pumping her hips to meet his thrusts. He tried to mute his grunts, mindful his sons were in the next cell, sound asleep in their bunk beds. He fingered her sweet spot, sending her spiraling into pleasure with a silent scream.

"I love ya," Daryl huskily groaned into her ear, gripping her leg as he thrust hard through her climax and barreled toward his own. He shuttered as he spilled himself within her. Releasing his tight grip on her leg, he banded his arm around her and buried his face in her neck.

"I love you, too," Carol whispered as her fingertips caressed his muscled arm.

They lay there just reveling in each other for at least half an hour as sounds of people stirring floated in the cellblock.

Carol was reaching for her sleep pants as soon as she heard noise in triplets' cell. Following her cue, Daryl pulled his pants up and managed to yank the blanket over them as the boys bounded into the cell and hurled themselves into their parents' bed.

Jamison landed on his father's chest while Bowen curled at his mother's feet. Greyson wiggled in between his parents. Carol laughed while Daryl scowled at their sons.

He loved his kids but he wasn't much of a morning person especially when he had a little human bouncing on him.

"C'mon, get off me," Daryl growled at Jamison, who obeyed by flopping onto Greyson, who howled in protest.

Daryl rolled out of bed leaving the bare-chested boys hovering against their mother, who sat up and calmly gathered them in her lap.

"You boys doing alright this morning?" Carol lovingly asked, looking each of them in the face. They all nodded.

"Yes, ma'am," they said in unison. She ruffled their hair, holding them close.

Carol still couldn't believe she had three sons. There were moments she'd look into their eyes and she had to keep from crying because wished Sophia were here to be a big sister.

Someday she'd tell Bowen, Greyson and Jamison about Sophia but neither her nor Daryl could mention Sophia's name without remembering the pain of losing her.

Without a shred of modesty, Daryl shucked his sleep pants and pulled on jeans along with a button down sleeveless shirt.

"We goin' huntin' today, Dad?" Bowen asked, crawling out of bed and standing in front of his father who was tugging on his boots. Daryl peered at him through the hair partially covering his eyes.

"Maybe. I gotta talk to yer Uncle Rick first," Daryl replied, his eyes meeting Carol's. "May hafta do a run today."

Bowen bit his bottom lip and nodded in understanding before motioning to Greyson and Jamison.

"Let's go get ready just'n case," he told his brothers. Jamison tumbled off the bed while Greyson gave Carol a lingering hug before trailing behind the others through the cell's sheet door.

"You think you and Glenn will be able to find what you need?" Carol quietly asked her husband as she fiddled with the blanket. He sank down next to her.

"I dunno," Daryl honestly answered. "I hope so."

Maggie was pregnant with her second child but she'd been violently ill this round. Glenn was getting concerned as she was already midway through her second trimester and it wasn't getting better.

Shaun had even been spending nights with his grandfather and staying with his aunt and uncle during the day. Hershel, Bob and Dr. S had conferred and thought possibly certain drugs, if they could be located, would help alleviate the symptoms.

* * *

Rick tried to convince Glenn to stay and let Michonne go with Daryl, but Glenn refused, saying he couldn't stand by and do nothing.

As the men loaded up the truck for the lengthy trip to a hospital in the far end of the next county, Carol attempted to sooth her own nerves by comforting Maggie that everything would be fine.

Merle pulled his brother away with Michonne at his side.

"We think ya and Short Round oughta stay. We'll go. No sense in worryin' yer women," Merle said, remembering full well how distraught Carol and Maggie were after a simple run that turned into an unintentional overnighter. And that was before there were kids in the picture. He didn't want his nephews to grow up without their dad.

Daryl chewed on his thumb and glanced at Michonne, who nodded.

"We can handle it," Michonne assured him with a smile.

Daryl was secretly relieved. He didn't really want to leave Carol and his sons for such a long period and he knew Maggie didn't want Glenn to be that far away from her and Shaun.

Michonne walked over to Glenn and quietly talked with him. At first he resisted but finally gave in when Rick chimed in again that this was a better plan.

Maggie burst into happy tears when Glenn told her he was staying and he escorted her back to their cell to lie down.

Carol just stared at Daryl, fighting back her own tears, moved by her brother-in-law's willingness to take his place.

Daryl hugged his brother, a rare display of affection for either of them, before Merle climbed into the driver's seat of the truck. He also gave Michonne a hug before asking her to keep Merle in line to which Merle scoffed and Michonne snorted.

"Whatever, baby brotha," Merle said with a smirk. "See ya in a couple of days."

As they watched the truck roll down the gravel road, Daryl placed his arm around Carol's shoulders and did what he hadn't done a lot of in all his 42 years, he silently prayed for Merle's and Michonne's safety.


	10. Costs A Buck

_**A/N: I feel the love dear fans and followers and reviewers! Thanks for joining me on this alternate journey. It has been much so fun thus far and it has been a giddy pleasure imagining what Daryl's offspring would be like. Keep the feedback and ideas comin' folks!**_

Bowen crouched next to the deer his father had felled to pull the arrows out. Jamison stood next to him, a junior crossbow strapped on his back. Daryl had been unable to locate more than one in his runs, so the boys shared it.

Daryl was several paces behind them, bending over to reload his crossbow, with Greyson waiting at his side, a pack slung over his shoulder.

A walker burst through the brush nearby followed by another one, startling Bowen and Jamison.

Daryl looked up to see Jamison plow into the legs of the first walker to knock him down while Bowen scrambled to his feet.

Dropping his crossbow, Daryl ran toward them and drove his knife into the second walker's skull before pouncing on the first walker and striking a deadly blow to its head with his boot.

"Watch out!" Greyson yelled when three more walkers appeared in the distance. He tried to drag his father's crossbow toward them.

Daryl was damned if he was going to let some filthy, disease-bearing motherf***ers attack his kids or gnaw on his deer.

He grabbed his crossbow from Greyson and pushed the boy behind him.

Jamison swung up his crossbow and aimed, striking one of the walkers between the eyes. Bowen guarded his brother while he reloaded, his knife out and his eyes narrowed.

Daryl struck another walker in the temple with an arrow, causing it fall in the path of the last walker, which stumbled and tripped face first. Bowen rushed it and slammed his knife into the base of its skull as its hands grabbed at him. Daryl kicked it in the head for good measure.

"Ya fellas okay?" Daryl asked, eyeing his sons. Bowen and Jamison had walker guts splattered on their clothes which he knew was going to drive Carol crazy. Greyson stood next to the deer biting his lower lip. They all nodded.

"Let's get this buck back to ya mama then," he said.

* * *

Daryl deliberately herded his sons into the showers before he delivered the deer to his wife. She didn't need to see them all disheveled and covered in walker blood.

But she knew the instant he walked in despite his best efforts to be casual.

Carol smiled when she saw him but it faded when she noticed his three shadows were not flanking him.

"I'm guessing no one was hurt?" she stated when he reached her. He shook his head.

"They're fine. I wanted 'em to wash up first," Daryl said, trying to keep his expression neutral.

Again, his wife knew him almost better than himself and she wasn't about to let the details slide.

"You going to tell me what happened or do I have to ask them?" Carol asked, crossing her arms. Daryl sighed.

"We killed five walkers out in the woods," he answered. "I had just shot this buck when they came at us. Nobody got injured. The boys did exactly what we taught 'em to do."

Carol searched his face for any sign of omission and found none. She implicitly trusted him to care and protect her and their children but she knew he sometimes didn't share everything in order to shield her from sharing in the hurt.

"I promise, woman, we're all fine," Daryl softly said, wanting to draw her to him but not wanting to get her grimy, so he settled for lightly running his knuckles across her cheekbone.

* * *

His hair still wet, a barefooted Jamison streaked through the common area toward where his mother was cooking venison stew for the group.

"I shot a walker between the eyes, Mama!" he proudly announced. Carol looked down at her son and gave him a tight smile.

"You did?" she asked. He nodded and demonstrated with gestures how he did it.

Bowen, who at least had put his shoes on, came alongside his brother and nodded in agreement.

"He knocked one down, too, so Dad could stomp it," Bowen added.

Jamison put an arm around his brother's shoulder and beamed at his mother.

"One tripped and Bowen stabbed it in the head with his knife," Jamison said.

"I see," Carol said, trying to tamper down her feelings of apprehension.

She and Daryl had put an emphasis on teaching the triplets to protect themselves and their family. It never crossed her mind they would view the killings as accomplishments.

"I'm glad you boys were able to protect each other and your father," she praised them, lifting her eyes to look at a freshly showered Daryl, who entered the area carrying a barefooted Greyson on his hip.

Greyson was awake but had his head resting on his father's shoulder, his forehead pressed to his father's neck so he could still see what was going on. Of the three, he was most tenderhearted, and while he had the same skills as his brothers, he only reacted out of necessity, not sport.

Daryl wandered toward his family.

"Why don't we let ya mama finish cookin' and come back in a bit," Daryl said to the boys while looking straight at Carol.

"Yes, sir," Jamison and Bowen said in unison, each hugging one of their mother's legs before racing back to their cell.

Carol laid a hand on Greyson's back and he smiled at his mother. Daryl leaned in and kissed her with enough intensity it left her breathless. When he pulled back, his eyes promised there was more to come later.

"See ya afterwhile," he gravelly said, leaving her there with her fingers on her lips and a flutter in her stomach.


	11. Redneck Ribbing

**_A/N: Felt like injecting some loving here, so you've been duly warned. This is a smut alert … Happy reading!_**

Daryl leaned in the boys' cell doorway as Carol tucked the triplets in their bunk beds, brushing their hair out of their faces and kissing their cheeks.

Greyson had nearly fallen asleep during dinner while Bowen and Jamison entertained everyone with their version about the day's events. They were turning out to be a regular comedy act as they dramatically described in detail how they took down walkers.

Carol had refrained from palming her forehead in public, mortified at her sons' antics. Daryl, on the other hand, had smirked at the scene unfolding in front of him

He reminded his wife later as he helped clean up the kitchen that their offspring were 4-year-old rednecks through and through. How else did she expect them to act?

She expressed her concern that the boys might become reckless when around walkers if they considered each kill an accomplishment and tried to show off or impress others with how many they impaled.

He countered that the boys had done what was needed to protect each other and he didn't foresee them acting like killing walkers was an exciting adventure. He told her if they ever exhibited such behavior, he'd whip them on the spot and make sure they understood it wasn't a game.0

When Carol exited the boys' cell, Daryl slid an arm around her waist. He guided her to their own cell and dropped the door sheet before spinning her around and backing her against the concrete wall.

His eyes were dark and predatory as he caged her between his forearms and pressed his body against hers, the evidence of his desire heavy against her abdomen.

She opened her mouth to speak but before she could utter a word, he slanted his mouth over hers.

Carol's eyes drifted shut as Daryl hungrily kissed her. His tongue hotly battled with hers.

Her hands made their way up his chest and around his neck, plunging them in his hair. He dropped his hands from the wall to capture her hips and lift her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist. The shift in angle elicited a muted moan from both of them.

He trailed his lips across her jaw and downward, causing her to lean her head back against the wall and softly whimper. He sucked and nipped along her neck and shoulder then covered her mouth with his again while he ground himself against her.

Daryl abruptly broke the kiss, laying his forehead on hers. He helped lower her feet to the floor long enough for them to shed clothes before he hoisted her up again.

Carol locked her ankles at the small of his back and he drove hard into her, stifling his groan in the hollow under her ear. She clung to him, her fingernails biting into his shoulders as she rocked into his pounding thrusts.

She soon found herself flying over the precipice of ecstasy and bit her lip to keep from crying out as her body spasmed around his. He followed suit, pumping the last of his seed into her with a deep-throated growl.

He braced his body against hers to keep them both upright using the wall as support until their breathing slowed.

Once he had regained enough strength to stand on his own, Daryl collected Carol in his arms and carried her to the bed. Together they collapsed onto it, him wrapping his lethargic body around hers.

"I'd never let anything happen to ya or them boys," Daryl mumbled.

"I know, Pookie," Carol softly replied, snuggling into him.

* * *

Mid-afternoon the next day, Merle and Michonne made it back to the prison in one piece with a couple of the requested medications for Maggie.

Glenn actually hugged Merle in thanks, which the brawny redneck ended quicker than lightning, muttering under his breath. Michonne witnessed the exchange with taciturn delight.

During the course of the trip she learned the man really did have a soft spot for the prison community as a whole.

Sure he tried to act rough and tough but she saw straight through him. It was evident he truly cared about what happened to his brother as well as all the people his brother now considered family.

"Whatcha grinnin' at, missy?" Merle gruffly asked as he passed by Michonne carrying a couple of boxes for Daryl and the boys. He had found some spare parts for the motorcycle in their travels as well as hunting supplies including a jerky dehydrator that could be plugged into a generator.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing," she said, her eyes sparkling.

* * *

"Why does Mama call ya 'Pookie'?" Jamison asked as he chewed on some deer jerky his father and uncle were working on.

Daryl's ears reddened as he stared at his youngest. Merle snickered and leaned back to watch the show. Daryl cleared his throat and hastily tried to think of an appropriate answer.

"Ya know how yer uncle calls ya 'rugrat'?" Daryl asked. Jamison nodded. "It's like that. Yer mama gave me that nickname 'fore ya were born."

"Just like Uncle Merle calls Mama 'Mouse'?" Jamison asked, turning his head toward his uncle.

It was Merle's turn to redden. He had been calling his sister-in-law that for so long, he didn't realize the boys had picked up on it.

Daryl snorted, holding back a laugh while giving Merle a pointed look.

"Yeah, exactly like that," Daryl said.


	12. The New Arrival

**_A/N: How about that Caryl reunion! OMG I screamed so loud it freaked out everyone else at the watch party. Did the happy dance all night and watched the clip at least a couple of dozen times within 24 hours. Sigh. =D_**

Carol was curled into Daryl's side, partially draped over him, their legs entwined. He had one of his arms tight around her with his other arm propped under his head.

Footsteps outside their cell woke him and he cracked open his eyes to see a shadow cast on the door sheet. Hershel pulled it back with one hand, lantern in the other hand.

"I need Carol to come with me. It's urgent," he said in his soft Southern drawl so as not to wake others in the cellblock.

Daryl rubbed his wife's arm and murmured to her. Carol lifted her head to see Hershel standing there and sat up.

"What's wrong?" she asked, shoving her bare feet into her boots before grabbing one of Daryl's shirts and donning it over her tank top.

"It's Maggie," Hershel said so quietly, his voice was barely audible.

Carol immediately understood. The medication hadn't really helped as Dr. S was hoping it would so he had ordered her to bed rest for the remainder of the third trimester.

Daryl swiftly dressed and followed them to the infirmary, knowing there wasn't much he could do but offer Glenn moral support.

Beth was already there, aiding Dr. S with prep to deliver via C-section. Glenn was gripping his wife's hand and tenderly talking to her as another wave of pain shot through her.

Boone had opted to stay with Shaun by babysitting in his and Beth's cell; the boy was asleep alongside his cousin, oblivious to what was happening.

Carol walked up next to Glenn and laid a hand on his shoulder. He nodded at her and stepped back to where Daryl was standing.

"How are you feeling?" Carol asked Maggie, soothingly pushing her wet hair out of her face.

"I woke up with pain shooting in my stomach," Maggie said, tears in her eyes. "Nothing like when I was pregnant with Shaun. Something's wrong."

"Well, we're all here to make sure she arrives just fine," Carol assured her.

Maggie had had a premonition she was having a girl that looked like Glenn and had recently told Carol and Beth when they were visiting in her cell one day.

"We're going to name her Hanna," Maggie had shared with her sister and her friend. The women had squealed like they were in high school and swapped baby stories until Glenn had arrived with dinner.

Hershel ushered the men out of the infirmary while the women stayed with Maggie. It was excruciating for Glenn not to be with his wife, but his father-in-law assured him she was in good hands.

As time dragged on, Glenn began to pace the hallway and panic.

"Why haven't they come out? Shouldn't the baby be here by now?" he anxiously asked. Daryl laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Your little girl 's fine," he said. Carol had spilled the beans about the possible gender not long after the girls' night out.

Glenn slid down the wall and put his head on his knees, hands locked behind his bowed head. Daryl glanced at Hershel before joining Glenn on the floor.

Daryl totally got where Glenn was coming from.

When the triplets had been born, Daryl had been in the room at his own insistence; he wouldn't have missed his kids' birth for nothing. He had sat behind Carol in the bed as a brace for her as she bore down. He would have done anything to take the pain from her and he'd cried when his sons were born.

Fortunately for them, there had not been any complications during the triplets' childbirth. To date all the births at the prison had happened naturally, even if labor had long for some. This was the first pregnancy since Lori that had folks concerned.

Carol finally emerged from the infirmary with a swaddled bundle, a strained smile on her face but otherwise betraying no other emotions. Only Daryl noticed something wasn't quite right, because he knew his wife's nuances.

There were no sounds coming from the blanket. Glenn jumped to his feet as Carol stepped in front of him.

"How's Maggie?" he nervously asked as Hershel moved in closer.

"She's fine. Dr. S is closing her up and she is still sedated," Carol answered.

"Meet your daughter Hanna," she softly said as she handed him the preemie. Daryl watched her as she carefully pulled the blanket back to expose the child's face.

It was apparent that she looked more like her father than mother with her pale skin and downy black tufts. That's when Daryl noticed the girl's face: she had Down syndrome.


	13. Hey Little Sister

"Jamison Lee Dixon!"

The shaggy dark sandy blond-haired boy stopped in his tracks at his mother's voice. His brothers, who had been flanking him on either side, froze in place.

At 9 years old, Jamison knew exactly what it meant when his mother used his full name.

"Shit," he muttered as he slowly turned on his heel to face her. Greyson and Bowen glanced at each other with a grimace before turning also.

Jamison knew he was in even deeper shit when he noticed his father striding past his mother, a scowl etched in his face as he came to a halt in front of his sons.

"Wanna tell me what the f*** ya think ya was doin'?" Daryl said in his low gravelly voice, his blue eyes boring into his youngest's flinty ones.

Daryl took note of the cut on Jamison's chin and the bruise forming on his cheekbone but said nothing. Carol came up next to Daryl and barely held back a gasp.

"He was pickin' on 'er and I wasn't 'bout to let that stand," Jamison said in a quiet voice, unflinching when his mother's fingers grazed his wounded face.

* * *

_An hour earlier_

"Hey Chinese retard!" Derek taunted, poking the 4-year-old sitting on the cellblock floor playing with Legos her parents had retrieved on a run for her.

The pre-teen had recently located to the prison with his dad, who had a near miss with walkers after getting drunk and passing out, leaving his son to fend for himself until Daryl and Boone found them.

Hanna glanced up at Derek, an innocent smile on her face. She had been born without any malice in her heart and knew nothing about the evils or ugliness outside the fence.

And even though Shaun was her only biological brother, the Dixon triplets had adopted her as their little sister the moment they had taken turns holding her. Most days she wasn't out of their sight for long.

"Hi," Hanna said to Derek, offering him one of her Legos.

He knocked it out of her hand and pushed her aside right before he was yanked to his feet.

"She's Korean and she's not retarded," Jamison snapped, his fist holding the front of Derek's shirt. "She's got Down syndrome ya f***er."

Greyson squatted down next to Hanna and wiped her tears away as Bowen collected her scattered Legos.

"It's okay, Hanna," Greyson assured her, sharing a narrowed look with Jamison. No one messed with Hanna, especially not some jerkoff who had just arrived.

Derek shoved at Jamison, who refused to loosen his grip.

"Let go of me, Dixon," he snarled.

"Not 'til ya 'pologize to our sister," Jamison responded.

Hanna was curled into Greyson's lap, who was comforting her, her lip trembling as Bowen stood protectively next to her, his hand on her shoulder.

"I ain't sayin' sorry to no retard," Derek spat. "Besides, she don't know the difference anyhow."

"The f*** ya will," Jamison said, spinning Derek around and shoving him to his knees, holding Derek in a chokehold. Derek slapped and clawed at Jamison's face but he was no match for Jamison.

Leaning in close to Derek's ear, Jamison hissed, "Now ya say yer sorry or I'll cut yer throat. Don't think I won't."

"I'm sorry! Geez, I'm sorry!" Derek wheezed, struggling in Jamison's hold.

At that moment, Herschel came around the corner to see his granddaughter crying. Jamison released Derek, who collapsed on the floor coughing.

"Gwampa!" Hanna called out, outstretching her arms, her current situation forgotten. Herschel gave her a tight smile as he neared. He questioningly looked at the Dixon triplets, who were all now huddled around Hanna like three bodyguards, before hoisting Hanna into his arms.

"What's going on here, boys?" Herschel asked, glancing at Derek who was slowly getting to his feet and unwilling to meet Herschel's eyes.

"Nothin'. Right, fellas?" Bowen said, sharing a look with his brothers.

"We was just horsin' 'round," Jamison added, staring directly at Derek, who nodded in agreement.

Herschel knew they were lying because Hanna wouldn't be crying if nothing had happened, but he let it slide for the moment.

He knew Robert's son Derek had been having trouble adjusting to his new environment and it was obvious he'd gotten into a tussle with the Dixon brothers over something involving Hanna.

"Derek, you look tired. Why don't you go rest in your room for a while?" Herschel recommended.

"Yes, sir," Derek muttered, escaping as quickly as he could. Greyson started to speak but Herschel shook his head, smiling at Hanna who was touching his beard.

"I don't want to know," Herschel said, cutting him off. "You take it up with your mama and daddy."

The boys shuffled out of the cellblock and into the yard without another word until their parents caught up with them, courtesy of Herschel's urging.

* * *

Two days later Robert told Rick they were going to strike out on their own, under the guise they wanted to search for Robert's cousins who might still be in the area.

Daryl watched them exit the gate, chewing on his bottom lip.

He had "chatted" with Robert, telling him he either needed to step up and play his part in the community or else. Not to mention, he needed to keep his kid in line. The council had long ago decided that to keep the peace, racist comments were an automatic ban from the compound.

Unfortunately, Robert reminded Daryl of Carol's late husband Ed, throwing his weight around like it meant something when all he wanted to do was drink and demand others meet his every whim.

Daryl sort of felt bad for Derek, but he suspected the boy would grow up to be exactly like his dad, that is if he lived that long.


	14. Yer My Reason

Bowen met the eyes of his brothers and his father as he lifted the post into place before wiping his brow and grasping another strand of barbed wire.

Over the course of the last three days they had been helping Uncle Rick, Uncle Boone and Uncle Merle construct a new corral.

The search team under Boone's direction had ventured farther into surrounding counties and managed to roundup and load a new herd of wild horses for training and breeding. The council had deemed it more logical to ride horseback in the general vicinity rather than trying to constantly scrounge up fuel for the vehicles.

At 13, the Dixon triplets were tall and lean, looking more like a younger version of Daryl everyday. All three were already pulling their own weight in the prison community.

Due to his quick thinking and insight, Bowen had been allowed to join the council this year alongside his parents.

He was proving to be an asset as the junior member, highlighting the needs of the newest generation and offering solutions. Rick remarked to Daryl and Carol after one meeting that Bowen might just end up being their leader someday.

Greyson now often worked alongside Dr. S as a medic like his mother, deftly treating and tending to the old and young alike.

When she wasn't helping her mother with chores, Hanna would follow Greyson around, wanting to help doctor people. He let her hold supplies and would praise her for being so helpful.

And still the wildest of the three, Jamison had taken to hunting on his own and accompanying his father and uncles on runs. Carol strongly opposed her youngest going outside the gates by himself as memories of Sophia overwhelmed her subconscious.

Daryl understood his wife's trepidation, but he gently reminded her the headstrong teen was a Dixon after all and only a Dixon can kill a Dixon. What Daryl didn't tell Carol was he and Merle had made an agreement that one of them would track Jamison's movement, staying far enough behind him that he had no idea he was being monitored but staying close enough to him they could come to his rescue if a problem arose.

On this sweltering afternoon in the prison pasture, Daryl had informed his sons they were on the construction crew until further notice, that all their other duties were on hold until he was satisfied they had met Boone's expectations.

Fortunately, none of them had protested like he thought they might. Daryl figured it had something to do with the fact their godfather had promised Bowen, Greyson and Jamison each their own horse once he had the animals gentled enough for the boys to break them to their liking.

Not to mention, the boys were regular cowboys who could rope and ride as well as Boone, who had taught them everything he knew.

Daryl continued to marvel at Greyson, who with Judith, could walk up to nearly any horse and hop onto said horse without a saddle or reins. They were like damn horse whisperers.

Rick leaned against one post and commented he felt like he was stepping into a western without any modern conveniences to which Boone had grinned and said they were, in fact, living in the Old West.

"What's a western?" Bowen asked, glancing at his uncles.

Merle let out a loud snort and Daryl just shook his head.

* * *

It was after dark when Daryl growled in frustration and flopped into bed, fully clothed, an arm over his eyes.

Carol quizzically peered at him from the little desk where she sat pouring over lesson plans for the next day under the light of a kerosene lamp.

She still multitasked in the community including teaching remedial English, pre-apocalyptic history and basic math to a dozen teenagers ages 11 to 17 in the classroom and serving as midwife and medic as well as baking the best cookies on the planet when Daryl could find her special ingredients such as applesauce.

For years now Daryl unofficially operated as second in command of the community so Rick relied heavily on her husband to make decisions. He either led or oversaw nearly every run outside the gates in addition to continuing to serve as the primary hunter.

Even though he was among the fittest in the group, some days it flat out tuckered him and that annoyed Daryl beyond words.

They were in their 50s now and were raising three half-grown boys … inside a prison. And despite the world going to pot nearly two decades earlier, they were living a relatively normal life — complete with the aches and pains of growing older.

"Anything I can do?" Carol softly said, closing the textbooks and shoving the papers to the corner before standing and stretching.

Daryl non-committedly grunted without looking at her.

She stepped up next to the bed and tapped his scuffed boots.

"Planning on sleeping in these?" she kidded, giving him a full-wattage smile.

He finally lifted his arm above his head and raked his gaze over her.

His wife was pushing 60 and yet she remained the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid his eyes on. Especially when she was wearing one of his old shirts she no longer let him wear in public.

Daryl knew he was a bear to live with much less be married to. And yet Carol saw past his faults and loved him as he was. To this day he still couldn't figure out how the hell he'd gotten so lucky.

He'd never admit it to his brother, but he was grateful Merle had forced him to pull his head out of his ass. He couldn't imagine what his life would be like without her or Bowen, Greyson and Jamison for that matter.

Carol stifled a giggle when Daryl suddenly sat up and pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her and burying his nose in her hair, his eyes closed.

"What are you thinking about?" she whispered, snuggling into his embrace.

"That yer my reason for livin'," he gruffly replied.

_Fin_

**_A/N: Thanks for reading folks! Sorry it took me so long to return to this and wrap it up. I've had a blast imagining "what if" Caryl had happened way back at the end of TWD:S3. It was an absolute delight writing the scenes of Daryl as a father. I'm having a hard time staying with the fifth season of the show as it steamrolls toward what could be a terrifying end for Daryl Dixon, if rumors are to be believed …_**


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